Renegades: Brigand
is a story focusing on the exploits of Brigand Team, a team of cut throats, murderers and convicted criminals, sent on missions too dangerous for other Spartan teams to even attempt. Brigand team is pulled off from their current assignment to investigate the disappearance of their sister team, Samurai Team. As they delve into the mystery, they uncover a plot that can threaten government control of the region, and possibly even off balance the UNSC. Prologue Ezra sat quietly in the cargo bay, in the cheap plastic chair, pulled as close to the work desk as possible. The cargo bay was unlit entirely, aside from the strong glow of the work lamp hunched over the desk, illuminating his work. A M57 pistol lay disassembled on the desk, its components neatly spread out. Ezra found it to be a soothing exercise, to break something apart, see how it works, and rebuild it, make it better, if he could. The pistol is what special forces referred to as a 'chimera', using different components, from multiple models and manufacturers, to build a mish-mash of parts than function more effectively than the original model. A carbon-fibre, cold hammer-forged high tolerance barrel with threading for a suppressor, a high strength bolt and a match level trigger, with civilian market grips and a Samson and Anders slide, which was light weight and tough, with room for the fire selector switch, allowing fully automatic fire. He picked up the bolt, examining it. It was blackened and dirty from over use in their previous operation, and needed serious cleaning. He unfurled the small patchwork bag of ad-hoc and official cleaning tools, and gently removed the grime and dirt, oiling and replacing the components. He began to thread the barrel back into the pistol, when the hiss of the door actuators broke the near silence, the bulkhead cracking open. The sudden activity distracted from his weapon, his normally precise hands fumbling, the barrel dropping onto the desk, ringing out across the empty cargo bay, echoing. The lights warmed up, slowly illuminating the room, and revealed the figure approaching behind him. "Lieutenant, I'm guessing you can't sleep either?" the SPARTAN asked, standing behind him, almost looming over him to peer down on his work. Ezra put down the gun in an exasperated manner and nodded, not saying a word. "Ah, I'm sorry, was I disturbing you?" Darius asked, recoiling a little "No." Ezra said, rubbing his face. He stood up, pushing back on the chair, forcing Darius to take a step back. He took up his pistol, in the oily rag it had been wrapped in and began to walk out of the cargo bay, Darius following in his wake. "Sir, we're three hours out from Corinthia, everybody is still resting in there beds, none of the armour units are warmed up and, probably what's distressing me most is, nobody has even told us why we've been redeployed out here. We still hadn't finished our operation on Castellan." Darius said, his dead-pan tone of voice belying the fact he was perturbed by their sudden orders to redeploy. "Warm up the suits, I'll wake the team." he said, walking down the narrow corridor of the vessel. Darius nodded in response, running a hand over his unkempt hair. Darius usually kept it styled, like many of the Sigmas did, as acts of individuality to break the fact most of them have no lineage they can trace., but his hair had grown from its usually styled form, and stubble had begun to form. The team had been operating on Castellan for a few weeks now, almost without break, and the short journey from there to Corinthia was a welcome break. They parted ways, as Darius headed to the armoury, leaving Ezra to walk into the cabin. He thumbed the door control, the button responding by opening the door and stepped in, stooping his head to get in. The room was pitch black and a mess, with discarded materials littering the floor. Ezra flicked on the light and stepped up to the closest bunk, kicking it, the Spartan within shifting uncomfortably. "We're three hours out from our destination Spartans, time to get up." he shouted, kicking bunks as he went past, the Spartans within stirring. He kicked the last bunk, the Spartan on it swearing under her breath, before she received a sharp kick between her shoulder blades, forcing her to twist her body in pain. "That wasn't a kindly request, it was an order, Sierra zero one one." he said softly, giving one of his faint smiles. The Spartans pulled themselves from their beds, getting up, stretching and performing their morning rituals. "I want the team in the armoury within twenty minutes" Ezra asked, in that soft spoken tone of his. Ever Spartan in there knew it meant 'Get there, or I'll split your skull so wide open I'll be able to ride a Warthog into your brain.'. He turned and left the room, leaving the rudely awoken Spartans to their business. "Is it just me, or is Ezra pissed off about something?" Tycho asked, his cybernetic limbs creaking as he stretched. "It was probably Darius." Jen replied, rubbing her back where she'd been kicked, her tattooed body already starting to bruise "You know how he gets when things don't go the way he's expecting. He gets agitated. Angsty. You know, like he always is, because nothing ever goes our way." Hannah sat up from her bunk, immediately clambering down, her movement follow by a soft clink of metal chain, prompting Jen to look over to the Gamma. "Hannah, you wore that fuckin' collar to bed?" She asked, eyeing up the reinforced collar of Jiralhanae origin around her neck. As she spoke, Hannah reactively reached up to touch it. "My Kranti (Master) gave this to me" she said defensively, holding onto the collar "You know.... before the commander..." "Before Commander-013 broke his neck and reduced his flagship to irradiated ash in deep space." Daniel said flatly, beginning to to do pull ups of the reinforcement spur above his bunk "Graget Nir sier malkaska! (You should go back to your mother's rotting womb in hell!)" she replied back aggressively, prompting Daniel to just smile. "Well, I could stay here all day and listen to you guys fight like kids, or I can go suit up and find out what the fuck is going on." Tycho said, his limbs finally ceasing their incessant squeaking. ---- Ezra lay his hand on the table, resting in the half assembled vambrace. He sealed the interior plating on, the armour's own systems syncing in and the vambrace's self assembly system linking in and locking together. He lifted his arm up, moving it in front of his eyes to track its seamless movements. He stood up, and took up his helmet, decorated with a skull-esque visage and fitted it over his head. He was immersed in darkness, until the power systems connected, booting up the armour. The micro-cameras came online, bringing to life an artificial view to life in front of him. "How's the diagnostic going?" He queried, turned to Darius "Green across the board boss." Darius replied, unhooking the cable from the rear interface on his armour, before placing it into the rear of his own helmet and placing it on his head. The others arrived, moving to their various armour units, all tailor modified for each of them. Ezra's was a Locus, designed for stealth and durability, the visorless helmet was decorated with death's head, made it unnerving in all circumstances. Darius had chosen the high tech Warrior, modified for lightened combat, and spotting targets at range. Daniel fitted himself into his MJOLNIR, a Commando variant, with red decorations resembling claws patterns. Hannah's more eclectic history dictated her choice of armour, the devious Stalker, modified with sharp, black spike patterns, apparently some Jiralhanae tribal pattern and her tell tale collar removed and placed on the exterior. Tycho used the sleek and deadly Venator, its agility at close quarters suiting his strengths. Jennifer picked the Para. Light, strong and low on maintenance, it could take the punishment she usually piled on her armour, and decorated it with the violence orientated tattoos adorning her own body. Lastly, Vanessa, the quiet outsider on the team, slipped into her own armour, a Scout, a well balanced armour engineered for stealth operations. As the team began to run the diagnostics, to ensure their armour was operating at peak performance, the holo tank in the centre of the room blazed into life. A figure, wreathed in a cloak of deep crimson fire emerged. At it's core, it was almost pitch black, with two piercing red eyes. The figure loomed over the team, attempting to menace them. They'd become to used to the A.I.s theatrics by now to be in the least bit worried. It extended its bone like claws over them, attempting to menace them when Jen just turned back and sneered. "Deimos, how about you just fuck off?" at this, the A.I. shrunk back, its semi-expressive face turning to disappointment and remorse, like a puppy told not to play. At this, he turned to Ezra and spoke, his voice raspy and damaged. "Lieutenant, we have patched into a FTL comm beacon. The Director is waiting for you." The A.I. said, soon flickering away after it had spoke. Ezra looked to his team and motioned his head in the direction of the exit. The team responded, falling in line behind him and followed him to the briefing room. They entered the room, its lights darkened and brought down to a low level. In front of them, a holographic projector buzzed into life, projecting a faintly blue image of a woman before them. She was tall and slender, with black hair to her chin, and sharp features. Perhaps in her mid forties, though knowingly older, the admiral was a individual to be rightly feared. As head of the Office of Naval Intelligence, she was rightly feared, and if she was briefing them directly, this was obvious something far beyond their pay level. "Admiral Osman." Ezra said, saluting sharply. The team followed, with various levels of enthusiasm. "Brigand team." Osman replied, eyeing the individual members of the team "Sorry to pull you out of your operation on Castellan but-" "But what? We we're knee deep in innie blood, we had those fuckers on the ropes!" Jen broke out. The director looked sharply at her, causing her to quickly double back "That is, we were near completion of our operation, ma'am." Osman narrowed her eyes at S011, as if she was firing daggers right from them, before turning back to the team as a whole. "As I was saying, before S011 rudely interrupted, I'm sorry to pull you off Castellan. Other forces will arrive to complete that operation. I pulled you off because we have a volatile situation on Corinthia that requires careful handling." "Then, with all due respect ma'am, why did you request Brigand team for this Op? We aren't known for being delicate, or subtle." Darius asked "You were the closest team available, and time is of the essence." she said, motioning her hand to the right. In real time, data began transferring, displaying data on their sister team, Samurai. Another team of Spartans from multiple generations, Samurai team specialised in covert operations, often against Insurrectionist forces. "Samurai team was deployed to this world on my request to conduct a clandestine operation. Samurai team ceased annual reports two weeks ago. While this is not unusual, given the nature of their operation, three days earlier we received a encrypted message over a civilian channel. It was only one word. Gladiator." The team looked on, failing to see the significance of this. "Gladiator was their danger word, indicating that they had been compromised and required immediate extraction. Given the delicate nature of the situation on Corinthia, I requested a Spartan team be reassigned to extract them." "Sounds too easy ma'am. Where's the catch?" Daniel asked, helmet tucked under under his arm "We do not know the whereabouts of the team. All external communications have been cut, and my operatives on the ground cannot find any trace of them. They are obviously hiding from some kind of significant threat." Ezra stepped forward, tapping on the holographic image representing Samurai Team's current operation, only for it to flash with the warning *VANIR ENCRYPTION*. Ezra looked to the director, confused. Osman frowned in return before straightening her black uniform. "The team was following a lead. We had it on good intelligence that the Vindicator is on Corinthia, and is responsible for the recent rise in anti-government activities." She said, her tone deeply serious "Oh come on Director, the Vindicator is an colonial myth." Daniel said derisively "Who's the Vindicator?" Hannah ask, a face of genuine confusion. Daniel opened up his myth to speak before Darius pulled him back, allowing the Director to speak. "I'm sorry Spartan, I know you've been out of the loop for a while, so I'll bring you up to speed on him. The Vindicator is some kind of Insurrectionist folk hero. The name has been linked to rebel activity across a dozen worlds in a fifteen year span. Some kind of 'great leader' who comes, whips the anti-government types and dissatisfied colonists into a frenzy then starts of major revolutions. Usually results in a shit storm, most of those worlds still have a significant military occupation for clean up. While initial intelligence believed it was propaganda, used by charismatic individuals to their benefit, in actuality, recent intelligence has confirmed it to be a single individual, however he operates through proxy agents, most of whom have never met him. Intelligence is patchy, with claimed eye witness reports saying he's a 7 foot tall super athlete who can break a Spartan in two with his bare hands to a 4 foot pygmy who's been experimented on by the Office to become psychic. Safe to say, we know next to nothing other that he's charismatic, despises the UNSC, is talented and has a wizard-class hacker on his team." The Director explained "That doesn't explain why Samurai was sent out to this shit hole though." Jen scowled "We have a high level informant embedded within the Insurrectionists on Corinthia. He reported in that the Vindicator had assumed control of one of the largest factions and began rallying the others. Around the same time Samurai went dark, so did he, suggesting he may of been compromised. If you can find Samurai, I'm sure they'll have more to share with you." the Director said "Now, because of sparse local War Net connection, and the high possibility it can be compromised at any time because of this wizard-class hacker, you're dark once you touchdown. Emergency extraction code is Blackwall, mission success code is Thunderstorm. I already have a contact for you on the surface who will act as your guide down there. Good luck Brigand Team." Osman said, looking sternly to the team, before cutting communication. "So how much of a shit storm do you think we're wading into here then?" Daniel asked brashly, while the rest of the team stood in silence. ----- Ezra took up his carbine in the armoury, slinging it on his back, before loading the cylinders of ammunition into his pouches. He turned back to his team for a brief moment, to observe them arming up. He turned back to desk in front of him, the auto loaders on it finishing filling a pistol magazine with ammunition. He took them up, slipping them into pouches on his armour, before hooking on a handful of grenades for good measure, and taking his precautionary set of two knifes, one, a M11 Close Quarters Combat Weapon System, fitted underneath his left arm, another, a Canyon Creek Wolf Series fitted to his boot as his back up. He finished up and left, his team still loading. Darius took up his M55C Enhanced Battle Rifle, stocked to the brim with spare magazines, and a M6L as his back up. Daniel armed up with his MA6A, fitted with a underslung grenade launcher, a bandoleer of rounds to go with it slung around his shoulder. His compatriot, Vanessa, had picked a SRS-99G, with a rifled CQB barrel, giving her excellent movement and lethality against soft targets, with a M7A SMg as her backup, and a wickedly curved karambit for close range work. Jennifer had picked a M90D shotgun, with the stock removed and a M6L as her secondary. In the end, she usually resorted to her bare hands anyway. Tycho had his M2A carbine, as usual, and a M57 automatic as his backup, but had his exotic Cascade-made short sword as his weapon for close range, which he proved to be utterly deadly with. Hannah was last up, with her own little arsenal. She had a MA6B, firing high calibre munitions for medium to close range kills against soft targets and as her back up she carried a Type-25 Carbine, better known as a Brute Spiker, modified for human hands with a rudimentary stock and holographic sight jury rigged on during her spare time, along with a curved blade of Jiralhanae origin, capable of disembowelling a foe with one short, sharp strike. The team followed Ezra out to the waiting Pelican, hanging quietly in the drop bay of the Corvette. While the crew chief and co-pilot were busy with pre-flight checks, the pilot waited just underneath the vehicle bay for the Spartan. "Lieutenant, she's all loaded, full fuel, all guns stacked up and spare supplies on-board. Will you need us for direct support?" the pilot asked Ezra as he approached "Stay at mid range, for electronic support and observation." Ezra asked, taking his seat in the back, followed by the rest "If we need a quick extract, you'll be called upon." The pilot nodded and headed down to the cockpit, and kick started the dropship into life. The engines began cycling up, and the rest of the crew made it on-board, strapping themselves in and locking up the door "Pre-flights show green across the board. We're still heading down to the Amaranthe Military Base, right?." "Yes, we'll land and refuel there, and we'll head to our next stop, where ever that may be." Ezra said, stowing his carbine and bringing down the harness to buckle him in for the ride. The rest of the team strapped themselves in, and the pilot began the count down. The landing bay was de-pressurised, and the bulkhead underneath them opened, before dropping the Pelican right down, their stomachs lurching as the changes in gravity became apparent. The Corvette dropped them off in orbit above their destination, allowing the Pelican to dive right down to the landing zone. The Pelican nose dived right through the upper atmosphere, a cone of fire forming around the nose as it descended, the whole entire thing shaking violently as it did. Inside the Spartans sat in relative silence, aside from the sound of the Pelican rattling and the air around it burning. The silence was broken when Daniel spoke up over the radio. "Who do you think is our contact on the ground?" Daniel asked, looking to the other helmeted faces in the cabin "Fuck if I know. Better not be a black suit though. I don't have the patience to deal with another agent today." Jennifer said, straining against the harness that kept her safely buckled in. "Well, be thankful we have somebody down there at all. This sounds less than ideal. We're wandering in blind to a potential trap. You know, like Aria." Darius said "Don't remind me about Aria. Took me a day to dig that chunk of shrapnel out of my shoulder." Tycho mumbled "Why the fuck does it bother you?! You're shoulder is made of synthetic muscle, carbone fibre and titanium alloys! Not as if it can still feel pain!" Darius said, trying to rail against his harness to bump shoulders with Tycho "Hey! I still have pain receptors, fuck knuckles!" Tycho said, straining against him. "Quit your bitching Spartans." Ezra shouted from his seat, remaining near motionless while he did it. Both the spartans immediately sat bolt upright and still Ezra remained quiet, along with the rest of the cabin for the duration of the ride. Eventually, they came out of the upper atmosphere and the ride evened out, as the dropship came in to the military base during dusk. Amaranthe was one of the largest bases on the planet, with substantial Army and Air Force presence for immediate deployment. Runway lights came alive, directing the Pelican to its rest, leading her down for a landing. The Pelican came in, its VTOL engines screaming in distress as it wheeled around, its landing gear dropping down. It came down and gently came to a rest, recoiling agaisnt the landing gear before coming to a balanced rest. The team released their harnesses and stood up, stretching after the cramped ride, and headed out as the back ramp dropped. Ezra walked out at their lead, feet touching hard concrete with a heavy clunk, and walking forward. Ahead of him stood several officers, Army and Air force, and high level looking at that. One stepped forward, extending his hand. "Afternoon Spartan, I'm Lieutenant General Harold Mosenbeck." The officer smiled, his 'fruit salad' glittering in the half light. Ezra looked down at the officer's hand and back to him, before gingerly taking the man's hand "Lieutenant G226, Brigand Team" he replied in a short, terse sentence The officer looked at him carefully, before coming out with a smile on his weathered lips "If you've ever need of garrison forces, I can assure we will back up any military operations you may have." Ezra nodded, and then craned his head to look over Mosenbeck. "Is something wrong Spartan?" "I was told we'd have a local guide. Where are they?" "Oh, she was here a moment ago. I thought you'd know her." General Mosenbeck asked, looking around Tycho was frozen still, looking over to his side, before he spoke to Ezra on private communications. "There's somebody over my shoulder, they're cloaked." Ezra turned around and stepped past Ezra, gently pushing him out of the way. "Do guides normally maintain an active cloak when meeting their charges?" Ezra asked. In front of him, a figure phased into existence, their cloak around them dissolving into the ether, revealing a MJOLNIR clad figure. Their MJOLNIR was an unusual configuration that Ezra had seen a few times before, with light weight plating and angular lines, all pitch black with a single visor, consisting of a narrow line up the centre of the helmet, with a red tint, and blue hue to it. The figure looked up to Ezra, the head cocking slightly. "Lieutenant G226, Lieutenant Junior Grade Zero Zero Zero reporting for duty." The figure said, springing into a sharp salute. Darius, Jen and Tycho stepped up behind Ezra to look down at the some what diminutive Spartan with a mixture of awe and confusion. "Wait, this is the legendary Zero?" Jen said, looking to Darius "I thought she'd be taller. All the stories we heard, she was supposed to be some kind of hyper lethal killing machine." With that, Jen pointed out her hand to Zero, almost within a foot of her, when Zero took the arm, and gave it a hard pull, pulling Jen forward, then ducked underneath her view and gave a sharp elbow to her lower spin, another pinpoint blow to a nerve cluster under her arm and a final blow to the inside of her knee, temporarily paralysing her and bringing her to her knee and quickly confiscated Jen's knife and brought it to her neck. "Oh wow, I like her." Tycho smirked, looking on with awe. Jen was by no means a push over, but this single Spartan had put her at her mercy in less than a second. "Very impressive Zero." Ezra said, giving her applause "I was under the impression you had been integrated into Bravo Company." "While Bravo Company is on manoeuvres, the Commander has me performing other duties where my talents may be better used. Samurai Team had personally requested reinforcement and I was dispatched. Unfortunately, By the time I got here, Samurai Team had already been declared missing in action. The Director requested I remain on standby while reinforcements arrive." She said crisply, and to the point. "Well, we're here, so if you release Jen from your death grip, we'll get a move on. Do you have a lead on the missing team?" Darius asked, gently stepping up to Zero and carefully taking the knife and moving it away from Jen's exposed neck. "Initial investigation led me to what I believe to be a safe house. Its in down town Magellan, in a residential zone." Zero responded, pulling Jen to her feet and handing her knife back to her. Jen snatched the knife back and sheathed it, and stepped back from Zero, eyeing her warily "I have the coordinates, we can reach it by air in less than an hour." "Okay, for the duration of the operation, you're folded into Brigand team, designation Brigand 8. Everyone load up, wheels up in five." He said, motioning to the team to follow him. ----- "Lieutenant, whats the plan?" the Captain Moseby asked, turning his head to look down the bay to Brigand team in the back. "Maintain mid level altitude and observe the operation area. Last thing we need is a gunship to go live in a densely populated area." Ezra said, giving his equipment one final check as he did. "Sure thing Lieutenant, we'll be over the drop zone in five minutes." Ezra stood up and face the drop ramp, tightening the sling on his carbine so it was pressed to his chest. Brigand team lined up, and began checking each others gear, making sure their equipment was properly stowed and prepared. "1 clear!" "2 clear" "3 clear" "4 clear!" "5 clear!" "6..." Vanessa paused, tightening a strap on Jen's armour "6 is clear!" "7 clear." Zero turned around while Vanessa checked her gear, making sure it was properly fitted "8 clear!" The cabin hissed as it was de-pressurised, and their armour quickly adapted to the thin air. "You all know the drill. High Altitude, Low Opening jump with zero gear." Ezra said, stepping forward to the ramp. "One shielding emitter fails, and they'll be hosing what's left of us from the crater." Darius smiled Daniel bobbed his head, as if singing something to himself, prompting Hannah to lean forward. "What're you singing?" Daniel cut his audio over to radio broadcast, allowing everybody to hear. ' '''He was just a rookie Trooper and he surely shook with fright ' He checked off his equipment and made sure his seals were tight; ' '''He had to sit and listen to those awful engines roar, ' '''"You ain't gonna drop no more!" "Two minutes to drop!" The whole team shuffled forward, everybody joining the cadence on its chorus in a sombre melody. Glory, glory, what a hell of a way to die, Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die, Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die, He ain't gonna drop no more! As Ezra mumbled along, the crew chief signalled with his hand. Five seconds "Is everybody happy?" cried the Sergeant, checking up, Four seconds Our Hero feebly answered "Yes," and then they racked him up; Three seconds He dropped into the screaming black, his thrusters misaligned, ''' Two Seconds '''And he ain't gonna drop no more! One second. The light turned green, and the crew chief pointed to the exit. Time to jump. Glory, glory, what a hell of a way to die, Ezra broke into a run, running down the ramp, then swan dived of the ramp, performing a single roll as he entered the screeching dark of the night sky. Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die, ''' He straightened out his body, keeping his knees and ankles together, tucking his arms to his side and angling himself to the ground. '''Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die, His team followed, with various levels of theatrics as they exited the dropship and screamed down to the city below, the city lights guiding them down. He ain't gonna drop no more! Ezra's head's up display changed, adapting to contain an altimeter, airspeed indicator and an artificial horizon, and displayed a waypoint for their landing zone. "Deimos, predict an optimal flight pattern for our descent." Ezra said, while he heard his team begin the next verse of Blood Upon the Pod Doors, a cadence popular with Hell Jumpers. "Done, sir." He Deimos replied, in his raspy, contorted voice. His HUD changed in front of him, the augmented reality systems kicking in to display a red trail for him to follow, contrasting with his blue HUD.